<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Blowing Off Steam Part I by chadillacboseman</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29297847">Blowing Off Steam Part I</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/chadillacboseman/pseuds/chadillacboseman'>chadillacboseman</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Blowing Off Steam [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Mandalorian (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Reader-Insert, The Mandalorian (TV) Season 2, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:00:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,846</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29297847</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/chadillacboseman/pseuds/chadillacboseman</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You live a simple life on Trask, the ocean moon of Kol Iben. One night, at the bar, you meet a Mandalorian- maybe it's the spotchka, or maybe it's just the effect he has on you- but the night gets interesting.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Axe Woves/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Blowing Off Steam [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2151747</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Blowing Off Steam Part I</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Mandalorian watched you from across the bar- his dark eyes taking you in over the rim of the glass he clutched in his gloved hand. You had noticed him, too, when you first arrived- your eyes drawn to his armor, and the distinctive Nite Owl helmet placed in front of him on the table. Earlier, he had been flanked by two female Mandalorians, but they had since departed, leaving him to finish his drink at his leisure.<br/>
The bartender, one of the few other humans in the bar, set a shot of spotchka out on the bar in front of you. You glanced up, an eyebrow cocked- “I didn’t order this,” the bartender grinned, his crooked teeth gleaming in the dim light, “no, he did,” he nods toward the blue armored figure across the bar.<br/>
</p>
<p>“What’s his story?” you ask, lifting the blue liquid to your lips and downing it in one swig. The bartender shrugs, “Dunno, him and the two others have been here for a few days. First Mandos we’ve had here in a long time. Maybe Mercs- they’ve got the equipment for it.” You steal a glance at the Mandalorian- his eyes are already tuned to you, dark and unrelenting. He is indeed equipped like a mercenary- a blaster on each hip, and a jetpack on his back. You hold up the empty shot glass and nod, mouthing a “thank you” you hope he can see through the dark haze. You return your attention to the front, hoping to catch the bartender’s eye and order another drink. Seldom did you get the chance to unwind in peace at a dive bar with good spotchka and minimal violence. Unfortunately, the bartender seemed to have engrossed himself in an argument with a nearby table- something about credits and an open tab.<br/>
It takes a moment for you to notice that the Mandalorian has moved to sit on the stool next to you- it’s only when you hear the soft clink of his helmet resting on the bar that you turn to see him. Up close, it’s hard to ignore his handsome features- his eyes are dark brown, nested above an aquiline nose, and his chin is covered in a light peppering of stubble. The corner of his mouth is just slightly upturned as he speaks, “Hope you enjoyed the drink.” His voice is smooth, and there is a hint of an accent you can’t identify. “I did-” you stumble on your words for a moment, not sure of what to say, “..Thanks.”<br/>
</p>
<p>The Mandalorian grins, clearly emboldened by your apparent embarrassment, “I’m Axe- and you are?” You consider him carefully for a moment, wondering if you can trust him. He cocks an eyebrow and laughs, “It’s fine, you don’t have to tell me.”<br/>
“Is there something in particular you want?” your tone is even, but you can feel your face flush when he chuckles, barely a rumble in his chest. “Well, it’s not very often that I come here and see someone like you,” you turn to look at him, but his expression is unreadable. “If you’re trying to proposition me, I’m not the type of woman you can buy a quick fuck from behind the bar.” Another chuckle, and he moves a little closer to you on his stool, “I never said you were.” The bartender is back from his argument, his temper seems to have faded with the acquisition of the credits he had been so heatedly demanding.<br/>
</p>
<p>Before you can welcome the distraction, Axe is speaking, “We’ll take another two snorts,” he sets his credits down on the bar and returns his attention to you. You feel your face heat again under his stare, “So, what are you? Mercenary? Bounty Hunter?” you are surprised at how nonchalant you’ve managed to sound- a small victory, given the circumstances. If Axe is caught off guard by the question, he doesn’t show it, he merely shrugs, “I’m a Mandalorian.” You snort, “I can see that much, but what are you doing in this particular dive?” One of his gloved hands traces the curve of his helmet lazily as he considers his next words, “Preparing to return to Mandalore, hoping to blow off some steam in the meantime.”<br/>
</p>
<p>Maybe it was the spotchka, or maybe it was just the aching longing for the touch of another that pushed you to your response, “And what exactly does a great Mandalorian warrior do to blow off steam?” Axe grins, his dark eyes glinting under the cantina lights, as the hand on his helmet moves to your thigh. You feel the twinge of arousal grow in the pit of your stomach as the grip of his leather-clad hand tightens. </p><p>“I can show you.”</p><p>--</p><p>The nights were always cold on Trask, as the winds carried in the damp ocean air over the port. Now that you stood out in the night, the scent of salted water filling your nostrils, you began to rethink your decision. You wonder, for a moment, if you could simply slip away into the dark streets- you doubt the Mandalorian would seek you out, but-<br/>
Before you can finish the thought, you feel the pressure of a hand on the small of your back. Axe’s helmet is back on, and he cuts an imposing figure, barely illuminated by the orange glow of the street lights. The pressure on your back pushes you gently toward the area behind the cantina; the alleyway is dark, and packed with discarded shipping containers.<br/>
</p>
<p>Axe snakes an arm around you from behind and you hear the gentle hiss of his helmet’s release latch. The beskar connects with the stone street below with a gentle thud, and Axe’s mouth finds its way to your neck. The warmth of his lips leaving wet kisses and bites from your shoulder to your earlobe brings back the familiar heat of arousal deep inside you. His arm around your waist moves away, and he snakes a gloved hand under the hem of your shirt. A moan stifles itself in your throat as the leather finds your nipple and gently brushes across it. He chuckles against your ear, the vibrations sending goosebumps erupting over your flesh.<br/>
His hand leaves your breast and you let out a quiet whine at the loss of touch, “Don’t worry,” his voice is low, almost a whisper, as he pulls the gloves from his hands. In an instant, his fingers find your breasts again, this time without the rough leather barrier between. You let out a quiet moan and push yourself back against him, the cool beskar of his chest piece a stark contrast to your body’s heat. One hand leaves your breast and moves to the waistline of your pants, snaking between your flesh and the fabric. </p>
<p>Axe moves as if he knows exactly what you want- his calloused fingers slipping gently into your folds and finding your clit.<br/>
“Axe-” you cry his name as he works gentle circles on your clit, his fingers slick with your arousal. His mouth again finds your ear, his stubble rough against your skin, “K’urr, mesh'la. We don’t want to get caught.” He works slowly, building you up, until you can no longer contain it, but always keeping you just shy of the edge. “Axe, please-” your voice is ragged, as you buck your hips into his hand. He grins against your neck and quickens the pace of his movements, his mouth now sucking dark bruises into your flesh.  You feel your climax building, threatening to erupt at any moment, as the Mandalorian’s fingers continue to push you toward your breaking point. Axe’s mouth on your earlobe is enough to finally send you over the edge, and your orgasm washes over you in waves. For a moment, you feel as though your legs are going to give out, but you lean back against Axe’s armored chest for stability.<br/>
</p>
<p>The Mandalorian pauses for a moment, allowing you to catch your breath, then pushes you away gently. You watch, as if in a trance, as he removes his belt and pulls his pants down just enough to reveal his length, throbbing and slick with precum. He situates himself on top of a discarded shipping crate, his back pressed against the wall of the cantina. He grasps your hips and pulls you closer, fumbling for a moment with the bindings of your pants, before pushing them down past your knees. You toe off your boots and step out of them carefully, and he motions for you to straddle him.<br/>
</p>
<p>With one leg on either side of his, you lower yourself gently onto his cock, feeling it stretch you out. Axe lets out a breathless moan as he disappears inside you, his hands holding tightly to your hips. For a moment, you both savor the feeling of him, buried to the hilt inside of you, before he bucks his hips and fucks up into you, his grip even tighter on your body. You bury your head in the crook of his neck as he pounds into you, splitting you open in the most delicious way. You can’t remember the last time someone fucked you like this, if anyone ever came close. Beneath you, the Mandalorian grunts, chasing his own high, his eyes focused on his length disappearing inside you. You feel his pace quicken, and one of his hands moves back to your clit, his thumb gently moving to push you closer to a second climax. You look down into his eyes, which are now burning into your own, and his mouth crashes into yours.<br/>
</p>
<p>His kiss is as desperate as his movements inside you, as if his tongue seeks to know every corner of your mouth. He swallows every moan that erupts from you as his thumb continues to work your clit. His movements grow more erratic, and you can tell he is close- with one final thrust into you, he lets out a strangled moan against your lips as you feel yourself clench around him, white-hot pleasure coursing through your veins.<br/>
</p>
<p>He stays inside you, panting, even as the mixture of your releases begins to paint his beskar thigh plates. You let your cheek rest against the cool metal of his chest plate as you feel his cock soften. For what seems like an eternity, you both remain still, until finally you push yourself off of him and begin to redress. Axe keeps his eyes on you, watching as you lace your pants and pull on your boots. Lazily, he tucks his cock back into his pants and stands to put on his belt and gloves. When you both have finished dressing, he reaches for his helmet and tucks it beneath his arm. “We’ll be on Trask for at least another week,” his voice is still slightly breathless, and the sheen of sweat is visible on his forehead in the dim light. You cock your head to the side and smile at him-</p><p>“Come find me if you ever need to blow off some more steam.”</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>